


The Rookie

by Butternuggets



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, OC SHIELD Agent, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butternuggets/pseuds/Butternuggets
Summary: Probationary S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Roy Fisher really wanted some coffee. He got it...but at what cost?
Kudos: 2





	The Rookie

Probationary S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Roy Fisher really wanted some coffee.

The party the night before had been epic. Julien, a long-time friend, was finally getting married, and he and the rest of the apartment complex they lived in had come together to celebrate. Roy was deeply regretting drinking so much now.

The lights in the corridors were damn near blinding, and he'd been unable to wear his sunglasses indoors because of safety measures. Sure, he could have 'hidden' them, but the white-hot ball of pain rattling around inside his skull was throwing his mutation off. God, what he wouldn't give to be blind to the universe right now.

He managed to disguise his stagger as a swagger, and made it to the cramped basement office without throwing up. Dumping his bag on the floor, he moaned piteously; there was a mountain of paperwork sitting neatly in the middle of his desk, ready for filing. Even worse, there was a sticky note on a thick manila folder telling him that it needed to be delivered to the executive rooms on the top floor.

Grumbling, he grabbed the folder and retraced his steps to the elevator. Roy tried to check his breath as surreptitiously as possible and winced when he smelt bourbon. He knew he should have stuck to vodka shots.

People wandered in and out as the elevator progressed up. 219 West 47th Street was, officially, a 22-storey apartment building built in 1930. Unofficially, S.H.I.E.L.D had bought out the high-rise in the 1950s, refurbished it, and turned it into one of its primary headquarters in New York. Roy liked to sneakily teleport up to the roof sometimes, eating his lunch while he watched the boats passing below along the Hudson.

Today he didn’t appreciate the view. He was just trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other until he got to the War Room, delivered the paperwork to the correct field agent, and went back downstairs to the sweet, sweet darkness.

Roy deliberately took a few wrong turns before asking for directions, doing his best to appear unfamiliar with the outline of the floor. Of _course_ he had snuck into the War Room on a near-weekly basis since being posted to the building; it was where all the big players hung out, and the vending machines were better.

The Avengers weren’t in today; instead Maria Hill sat behind a screen of frosted glass, chatting stoically with somebody on the phone. ‘Can I help you?’ a short-haired blonde woman popped into his field of vision, staring quizzically at him. Roy blinked; she was clutching a small cardboard box in one hand, disposable coffee cups steaming away.

Roy grunted incomprehensibly, winced, and gestured towards Agent Hill’s office. The woman’s smile became a little fixed and she plucked the file from between his limp fingers. ‘I’ll pass the message along’ she said, turning away.

 _Damn that coffee smells good_..

Instinctively, Roy reached out and grabbed a coffee cup.

‘Hey!’

The woman’s smile had disappeared entirely now. Roy murmured apologetically through the first gorgeous mouthful of caffeinated bliss, fishing out his wallet so he could reimburse -another squint- ‘Nick’ for the theft. He was too busy sipping to notice the sudden change in ambience.

The woman was pale, eyes fixed on something just over Roy’s shoulder. The background noise of the office workers had abruptly stopped, and as Roy turned to look, even Maria Hill had paused mid-phone conversation.

Nick Fury was standing in the doorway, poker face on point. A tiny, tinkling warning bell started sounding somewhere deep in the back of Roy’s mind. His eyes slid down towards his hand and he squinted slightly at the name again.

 _Nick_.

 _Huh_.

… _Nick_ …

 _Oh_.

 _Oh God_.

If he’d been more awake, Roy might have started sweating. But he was hungover, and tired, and the coffee really was quite delicious.

A tiny part of him shrugged. The rest of his brain packed its bags and relocated to Knowhere.

 _Well..I guess you’ve got to meet God sometime_.

Without breaking eye contact, Roy raised the cup, chugged the last few steaming mouthfuls, and dumped it in a bin down the hall once he’d politely squeezed past Fury’s unmoving frame. He only started screaming, mouth muffled, head in his hands, once he’d made it back to the relative safety of his office.

Merciful Christ in a bathing suit he was screwed. He was more screwed than whatever hapless idiot had crashed the helicarrier the other week, or that one guy who had had the stones to flirt- _actually flirt_ -with Agent Romanov. He wasn’t sure they’d ever found the pieces.

Squirreled away at his desk, Roy spent the better part of the morning doing filing and entering basic field reports into his computer. He lurked downstairs during lunch, sitting cross-legged on the floor while he ate. Eating that way was a comfort tick from his teenage years that he’d never quite gotten rid of.

It helped a little, but the end of the day was a long way off. Roy spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over his failures while he micro cleaned. If he was going to be fired, he would retain what dignity he could by leaving behind a clean office.

He was putting away the vacuum cleaner when there was a sharp knock, the door swung open, and Agent Phil Coulson stepped into the room.

Roy froze. Nobody spoke. There was a beat as both men locked eyes, then Coulson stepped forward and stunned Roy by pulling him into a warm bear hug.

Coulson stepped back again with a smile. Wordlessly, he reached up and took Roy’s lanyard from around his neck, then pinned a plastic id display badge to Roy’s breast pocket. Then he turned on his heel and marched out the door.

Level One S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Roy Fisher was having a really stressful day.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a funny little idea I had. I may come back to Agent Fisher at some point in the future, or not. Time will tell.


End file.
